F.O.D.

I went to bed mad last night. Never a nice option.
Most every night I listen to music as I fall asleep. Last night was no exception. Normally, I pick something quiet, such as my sleep playlist, Muse or Regina Spektor. Last night I picked Green Day's 1994 breakthrough album, Dookie. It's one of my go-to albums when I'm angry. Just the right amount of adolescent angst without creeping into the realms of emo.
Anyway, one particular song really caught my attention last night, so I figured it was time for a lyrics post.

F.O.D.- Green Day

Something's on my mind
It's been for quite some time
This time I'm on to you
So where's the other face?
The face I heard before
Your head trip's boring me

Let's nuke the bridge we torched
2,000 times before
This time we'll blast it all to hell
I've had this burning in my guts now
for so long
My belly's aching now to say

Stuck down in a rut of dislogic and smut
A side of you well hid
When it's all said and done
it's real and it's been fun
But was it all real fun?

Let's nuke the bridge we torched
2,000 times before
This time we'll blast it all to hell
I've felt this burning in my guts now
for so long
My belly's aching now to say

to say...

You're just...
a fuck.
I can't explain it 'cause I think you suck.
I'm tak-
-ing pride
in telling you to Fuck Off and Die.

I've had this burning in my guts now
for so long
My belly's aching now to say
I'm taking pleasure in the doubts
I've passed to you
So listen up as you bite thisssss...

You're just...
a fuck.
I can't explain it 'cause I think you suck.
I'm tak-
-ing pride,
in telling you to Fuck Off and Die.

Good Night.


Perfect for the kind of anger where you can't even find words for it. Some people like to listen to calm music when they're angry, to make them feel relaxed. I prefer to listen to music that echoes how I'm feeling. It's satisfying to know that someone else has felt something similar. It really helps bring the emoitons forward so you can release them, whereas calming music just pushes them back and you only end up feeling them in a more intesified way later. Well, for me anyway.

I have some photos that are meant to be coming. I shot a gig for Marlow on the weekend, but I'm too scared to upload my photos because I've just gotten a security warning about the 300 trojans on my C and D drives. I'm too scared to remove them in case they remove the whole files, not just the trojany bit, and if that happens, I'll get blamed when Dad gets home. So I'll let him do it.

All for now
-m xx

31

Yesterday was one month since I got home.
What have I done in those 31 days?

Gone to Mary's. 3 times.
Gone to the movies. Twice.
Gone to Melbourne for the first time in my discernable mermory.
Gone to a horse race for the first time EVAH
Painted my nails. 5 times.
Bought stuff. lots.
Turned 19.
Gotten a job.
Gotten paid.
Fucked up my tax form and had 24% witheld on my weekly pay.
Pretended to shoot things with my pistol ring. Countless times. Especially J and the phone at work.
Eaten Thai food. three times.
Bought shoes with skulls on them.
Replaced my stolen wallet.
Stroked things in mimco.
Rang Gucci Australia to offer them vodafone services.
Been asked by an American if we celebrate thanksgiving in Australia. Really?
Given the "...Really?" face to a stupid American
Realised that even if I was American I probably wouldn't celebrate it because I don't like turkey or slaughtering indigenous peoples.
Drank Australian Shiraz. Many times.
Snapped about the misuse of the word "ironic" in a Shane Dawson video
Researched irony on wikipedia.
Considered buyiong Alanis Morrisset a dictionary.
Watched Top Model.
Counted down for Gossip Girl to start.
Seen Hairspray.
Walked. A lot.
Slept in my own bed.
Gotten a proper tan. Not that temporary European shit.\
Realised life would be a lot more awesome if the Eastern half of Australia was acutally part of Europe.
Inhaled a fair amount of bush fire smoke

So I've run out of stuff. It's hot, humid and there a bush fires somewhere. I love the smell but it just makes me tired breathing in smoke all day. I've got my first gig in God knows how long tonight. Not a Ramshackle one, they're currently devoid of a drummer. J's brothers band, Marlow. Me and Derek are quite excited.

I went shopping yesterday. Like a proper shop instead of the sporadic purchases I've made so far. I'm quite excited because I've finally added some khaki into my wardrobe, in the form of a chiffon maxi skirt, shamefully bought from Sluthut (Supre) and a badass army chick drapey vest thing with ZIPPERS! I've realised though that I need some nude staples as all of my outfits are black and colour based. I'm lusting after beiges, dusty pinks and soft coffee tones. That's my next mission.

All for now
-m xx

Dear Alanis Morrisset

(and anyone else it may concern.)

"Irony (from the Ancient Greek εἰρωνεία eirōneía, meaning dissimulation or feigned ignorance)[1] is a rhetorical device, literary technique, or situation in which there is a sharp incongruity or discordance that goes beyond the simple and evident intention of words or actions."

examples of irony:

"When John Hinckley attempted to assassinate Ronald Reagan, all of his shots initially missed the President; however, a bullet ricocheted off the bullet-proof Presidential limousine and struck Reagan in the chest. Thus, a vehicle made to protect the President from gunfire was partially responsible for his being shot." (situational irony)

"In O. Henry's story The Gift of the Magi, a young couple are too poor to buy each other Christmas gifts. The wife cuts off her treasured hair to sell it to a wig-maker for money to buy her husband a chain for his heirloom pocket watch. She's shocked when she learns he had pawned his watch to buy her a set of combs for her long, beautiful, prized hair." (cosmic irony)

"Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice begins with the proposition “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” In fact, it soon becomes clear that Austen means the opposite: women (or their mothers) are always in search of, and desperately on the lookout for, a rich single man to make a husband." (comic irony...(not to be confused with cosmic))

"Verbal irony is distinguished from situational irony and dramatic irony in that it is produced intentionally by speakers. For instance, if a man exclaims, “I’m not upset!” but reveals an upset emotional state through his voice while truly trying to claim he's not upset, it would not be verbal irony by virtue of its verbal manifestation (it would, however, be situational irony). But if the same speaker said the same words and intended to communicate that he was upset by claiming he was not, the utterance would be verbal irony."

Now, Alanis, pay extra special attention here:

"The majority of American Heritage Dictionary’s usage panel found it unacceptable to use the word ironic to describe mere unfortunate coincidences or surprising disappointments*"

*such as: your lyrics.

A super old dude dying is not ironic. 98 year olds die a lot. most people die before they get there. Winning the lottery does not make you immortal, it just means you got some lucky sons-of-bitches inheriting all kinds of awesome and win.

A fly in you chardonay is not ironic. At all. It can't even come close to being confused with it. It just kinda sucks. but only kinda, because, here's the important part, YOU CAN PICK THE FLY OUT AND DRINK IT ANYWAY! WHO WASTES GOOD WINE?

"Ten thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife." Ok Alanis. I can only assume this is a metaphor, because nobody has that many spoons. But needing a knife at not having one is not ironic. If, perhaps, the day before this knife-requiring incident, you'd thought "hey, I never use knives" and sold all of your knives to buy a plethora of spoons and then went "shit, i need a knife now" that would be irony. cosmic irony to be precise. like when I mailed all of my socks home because I only had ballet flats in Europe and then bought ankle boots 20min later, having to then buy socks.

Basically Alanis, get over it. The only certainty in life is death. Apparently at the age of 98 after winning the lottery.

This has been a public service announcement.

-m xx

p.s. quotes from wiki. Imma researchin'

I may have to get a new job...

It was torture enough when I discovered the mimco store in Chatswood Chase after work yesterday. Especially considering I finish work at 4 WHEN IT'S STILL OPEN. But it gets worse.

Every day, I walk past sunglass hut. It has windows. With display shelves. And they put the chanels at the front.

I've fallen in love.

Could they be any more magnificent? And if you're excited now, they come in other colours! orange, blue, pale pink, clear and the practical black.

Even the black has something to draw your eyes in!

The one tiny insignificant hiccup in the magic that is the Chanel CC4182s? The price tag. $490 in store. I did a bit of hunting online and have found a website that sells them for about $360. But with everything I want to buy RIGHT NOW and everything else coming up- fucking up my tax form so I missed out on $85 this week, Christmas, starting TAFE, not being able to work full time next year, owing my sister the equivalent of about 6 weeks pay etc. etc. they may just be a bit of a pipe dream. That doesn't stop me going into the store after work tomorrow and seeing how they look though, does it? I could get lucky, they might look terrible. One can only hope...

In the mean time, I do have $300 birthday money to spend without guilt. My current plan is Tony Bianco pumps (I get 30% as a birthday gift for being a VIP member) and a mimco wallet (yes, I know. Just because I need a proper wallet doesn't make it neccessary to spend $200+ on a wallet but I WANT one, you see?)

I'll be back soon! Friday if not before.

-m xx

It's that time of year again

Top model favourite picking!
This year has been tougher, my favourite from the first episode, based on looks, turned out to be a mad psycho bitch liar who never turned out that spectacular shot that I'd foreseen of her. And she was raised in a cult. And had a shaved head so her makeover consisted of them bleaching her eyebrows. (Oh Tyra, you so predictable)

Naduah.

She had so much potential, but she only dissappointed me...

So, on to my updated favourite. I was first drawn to her because of her eyebrows. Then they darkened her hair, and Tyra didn't do a thing to her brows because they were "perfect" (my family think we're both crazy but I guess me and Tyra know where it's at?) Then, she got in front of the camera. And she's AHmazing.

Raina.

I. Can't. Look. Away.

Also performing well is Alasia. But I just can't love her, despite her turning out some of the best photos so far. She's just too much of a crazy bitch. Always having the last word and all that.

Alasia.

Also, cannot wait till the 30th, when Gossip Girl s4 hits Aussia TV screens. Tuesday nights will be restored to their summer glory- ANTM and GG in one night? Oh Fox 8 I love you.

-m xx

p.s. I'm 19. I got a Pandora and some other cool shit. Can't wait to spend my moneyz

With my first pay in close to four months, my birthday and Christmas all around the corner, I've already started some planning for the hardcore spending I will need to do. I mean, having too much spare cash lying around just isn't safe, is it?

Right now, my focus is trained mostly on accesories, particularly mimco. Possibly due to the fact that I almost ruined my mimco shoes at the Melbourne cup, but maybe "needing" a replacement item is just my excuse to drool over the wee beauties.

Here's just a few things on my possibly-buying-when-I-have-lots-of-money list:

In the bag.

It's all in the details.

Ah, my pretties...

Mimco out of your price range? May I recommend Mouche, this gorgeous little accessory brand I discovered in Chatswood (See North Shore kids? Chatswood has some good stuff). Mark my words, it's the next mimco. I fell in love with one particular bag there. I love skulls. I also love studs. I also love envelope-clutch-type-things. This bag, is all of those and so much more! Yes. It is an envelope-clutch-type-thing with SKULL SHAPED STUDS. It is seriously amazeballs. i tried to find a photo but their website appears to be under construction. At $180, it's a lot more affordable than most mimco bags. They also have some seriously awesome quirky jewellery, as low as $14! That store is daaaangerous. But when I get some money, possibly next week even, that skull-stud bag is so mine. It'll do nicely as a temporary fix while I save up a bit more for some sweet, sweet mimco.

-m xx

Oh noes!

Something has happened to my layout. I don't know why. But they've changed the simple template or something. And my header is now skinnier than Rachel Zoe and not at all centred. I am annoyed. If anyone knows a css code to fix this, pleeeaaase tell me?



Anyway. I start my new job tomorrow, how exciting.

Last night I watched the first two Harry Potter movies. Something caught my eye in the first one, the scene when Harry receives his first letter. It wasn't 11 yr Old Daniel Radcliffe's bumfluff pre-puberty mo. I noticed that a bit later.
No, it was Dudley's Smeltings boater hat.

Want. Now.

I've been on the look out for good summer hats. mostly I've had my eye on straw trilbies, but I have noticed a bit of a theme with boaters in some stores. None had quite the same effect as young Dudley's here. So it's my new mission, to find a flat, wide boater. And with the hot summer sun and lack of ozone down under, they're practical too!

Mind you, a good classic straw trilby wouldn't go astray either.

-m xx

Corporate World

So I started getting a little bit desparate for a job the other day. After a whole week (ooh so long) of applying for fashion retail jobs and hearing nothing, I gave up a little bit. I applied for some call centres.

I wanted to avoid going back to sales but nothing wa sbiting and I'm getting poorer by the second. I borrowed $10 off my mum yesterday. $10! I'm so broke that having $10 is a relief!
Anyway, as things often happen, I applied for the call centres on Thursday, and got a call 8am the next mornbing- not asking me to come in for an interview, oh no. Asking me to start monday. I went in that afternoon to sign everything and give my pay details and I'll soon be working 9-5, what a way to make a living.

The best bit is, I finish at 1pm on Fridays for some reason. Party! AND it's in Chatswood, so Thursday nights will be shopping time :) I may have to stop using the word "chat" for fear of offending the locals, I'm not sure if that word exists there.

I think J is feeling ignored. He just put his hands over my ears, but I heard him whisper "i hate you," despite his denials. Strange lad.

With money on the way, I'm finally feeling the joy of Summer (not that it even is Summer, but Spring is just Summer with more rain anyway...) And it's my birthday in a week, which means presents and moneyz and foods.

-m xx

I know I shouldn't laugh...

But it's funny. So I'm gunna.



It just gets worse and worse as she keeps trying...

Night Terrors

I had a wee spot of trouble in the sleep department last night.

Firstly, I stupidly allowed my thoughts to wander over to the terrifying realm of "Paranormal Activity." Now, I'm not irrational enough to actively be frightened of a demon dragging me out of bed, but running scenes through your head can still freak you out. Enough to be too scared to change my bed position despite huge discomfort.

Of course, every sound made by the house or floating in from outside made me jump. And then I started thinking about burglars and how I don't care if they rob me, as long as I can sleep through it. Then of course i remembered my cameras were in the loungeroom, prime target for any burglars that might happen to call.

Then, when I stopped freaking out and was about to fall asleep, I felt my hair move and my scalp shiver as if something was crawling on my head. It felt like something had crawled from the start of my hair line to my crown. That something felt like it was quite large, with a lot of legs. Now, immediately, I assumed I had a cockroach crawling through my hair. Bad business indeed. I have an irrational fear of cockroaches. I think it's their legs but anyway, as small and pathetic as they are, I was petrified by the thought that there was one on me.

Cockroach, as it is and should be. Dead.

Cockroach, magnified by my immagination.

He's planning to murder your entire family.

Right after he hacks into your facebook and lays eggs in your hair.

Pure evil...

So that was me. Lying there. Too afraid to move. At all. My heart was pounding so loud that I began to fear that would somehow disturb the cockroach which then made my heart pound more. See, I have a horrid, disabling fear of having cockroaches on me in my sleep. So much so, that when I'm awake, any movement of my hair, or soft scuttling noise drives me to this paranoia and fear that has me pinned to my bed, terrified to have the thing on me but too terrified to get it off, because then it might get on my hand or under my shirt or lost somewhere in the folds of my bed and I might have to feel it's disgusting scuttly legs scuttling all over me. Or, worse still, it could be the worst kind of cockroach. The kind that come out in summer. The kind that's impossibly large, impossibly black and as soon as you work up the courage to fetch the bug spray and aim, it confirms your worst fears. The mother fucker can fly. There isn't much in this world that terrifies me more than a flying cockroach. In my room. On me. Except maybe clowns...

Me, but black, attempting to fight off the horrid beast only to discover its secret weapon of flight.

(...Possibly a scene from "That's so Raven"?)

I lay there, not moving, for ten minutes. It felt like hours. My brain was doing a vicious cycle. "I'm sure it was just my hair moving." "For so long? It was a cockroach. Or, I could be lucky, it could be a poisonous spider" "But why has it stopped moving, then?" "Maybe it's laying eggs..." "Maybe it already crawled off me? If I just shift my head ever so slightly, to see if anything moves..." "Oh god I can feel it's weight, it's still there. Don't move" "But now it's on me? I can't exactly jsut ignore it and go to sleep" "Well you could..." "No. I should just shake my head wildly and it'll be flung accross the room!" "Or it'll fall in your bed...." "..."

At this point, I got desperate. Finally, my brain came to a new possible solution. A beacon of hope. My sister, asleep in the next room. Pathetically, too scared to raise my voice above a whisper, I "called out to her" (read: whispered to noone but myself). "Steeeepppph...... Steeeeeppppphhhh....... Steeeeepppphhh?!"

No reply. I was on my own. I lay there, motionless. Torturing myself for a while longer. Rethinking my position on marriage. Perhaps I could have a prenup stating that my husband's only duty was to defend me from 6 legged beasts? Eventually I had to admit it. I couldn't just lie there and wait for the thing to move again. What if ti crawled on my face? Or down my neck? Or IN MY EAR? I had to do something. Slowly, I shifted my body so I was lifted slightly off the pillow. Then, after a moments hesitation, I simultaneously jumped upright and violently shook my head around like a total loon. I scraped at my hair, in case the violent head motion wasn't enough to dislodge the thing. Thankfully, not scuttly legs wrapped themselves around my fingers.

I jumped over to my light and switched it on. I saw nothing. I shook my head again, just in case. I ran my fingers through my hair again, just in case. I searched my bed. I looked around the room at large. Nothing. I sat there for a while, still shaking, my leg muscles aching from being tensed up for so long. Still nothing. I grabbed a book- "Last Chance Saloon" by Marienne Keyes. Good, funny chick lit. But with real themes, to properly consume my attention. I pressed play on the CD player. I needed to pee but was too scared to leave my room and enter the dark scary hallway. I left the light on.

Eventually, some time between 2 and 3am, I fell asleep. I woke up at 7:30am. The light was still on. I realised I'd slept with the light on. I'm sure I would have jumped into bed with my mother if I hadn't been too scared to leave my well lit, cockroach, demon and burglar free room. I am 18 years old. And the thought of a cockroach crawling on my head in the darkness scared the nights sleep out of me. What's more, the thought of the roach was far more frightening than burglars or invisible demons.

I am officially neurotic.

untill something else interesting happens, like further signs of my descent into full blown insanity due to a queer combination of maddening boredom and crippling apathy

-m xx

Changes

So you may notice the different layout. My header now has a spiffy photo! And I changed the colours to fit with it. And I finally deleted that music player. *Cue cheers from an unknown source*
I might get a new one... I might not. We'll see.
I also have a few ideas that are sure to be coming over the next few weeks, as well as some more schfotos.
Just call me Super Blogger.

UPDATE: as for my real life? Nothings happening. Job hunting on the interwebz, waiting for my phone to ring. Going to the movies tonight- I'm actually really excited because I haven't left my house since Friday. Which was only 2 days ago yes but I've got cabin fever already.
Oh and I changed the feed from my facebook photography page to my twitter, since I be tweetin now. We'll see how long that lasts.

Photos: Melbourne Cup

Can you hear the horses? 'Cause here they come.

All photos taken by me, save for the group shot which obviously has me in it- taken by Mother Brown

I delivered.

-m xx

Smacked in the face by reality

Ouch.

My holiday officially ended on Thursday, after my return from Melbourne. Now, instead of living a life of spontaneity, cultural discovery (sort of) and shopping, I'm juggling job hunting, trying to make a decision about my studies, and an overwhelming temptation to abandon all of that and become a penniless drifter. But then, being penniless, I wouldn't have nice clothes. Or wine. So it's not really worth it at all.

So my regular travel update is a wee bit redundant now that I'm no longer travelling and this is no longer a travel blog. Not to mention, with my onslaught of blog posts in the last few days of my trip it's not really neccessary. Plus, I can't be bothered going to find my note book. So it is officially completed as of... NOW.

Welcome to my no-longer-travel-and-restored-to-previous-role-of-whatever-I-feel-like-posting-about-but-mostly-shoes blog. I hope it meets your expectations of non-travel related stuff. If you have any. I know I personally have missed it. I've also learned that schedules don't really work for me. I can't force myself to be in the right mind-frame for blogging and most of my Sunday updates were no where near as witty/amusing/entertaining/frivolous as they should have been. Now, this should return in full force!

In my first few days home I spent a lot of time with J. and caught up with some other friends over schnitzel, lemon lime and bitters and refusing to pay cover charges among other things. Getting dressed every day was a major challenge. I actually "had" to buy a new shirt just to have something to wear on Friday night. Poor me.

On Saturday I went down to Melbourne. On the train heading for the airport, I received a phone call. From whom, you wonder? The airport. Qantas to be more specific. They had my luggage and were hoping to deliver it. Well, they weren't willing to deliver it as far as the domestic terminal, but of course I was able to pay an extra $5 to get the train to the international terminal to pick it up. Bastards. So I had clothes! Unfortunately most of them were dirty so getting dressed didn't get much easier. The few days down south were spent mostly in stores, searching for my Melbourne Cup dress. The Tuesday of course was spent at Flemington, in a flurry of rain, horses, photos, yellowglen, mud and ruining my Mimco shoes. Oh no, I'll have to find a suitable replacement pair!

On the Wednesday we went to Hairspray at the Princess Theatre. It's incredible how much stage production has progressed with technology. I mean, when Tracy opened the curtains to her bedroom window in the opening number, Good Morning Baltimore, she merely made swiping motions on a PICTURE of a window on a COMPUTERISED SCREEN and the curtains swished open. Magnificent. Anyway, it was a really good show and I recommend it to anyone who's a fan. Even if you're not. You should be, it's awesome! Who doesn't like musicals about racial descrimination on TV in the 60s, a girl's struggle to fit in and budding romances between teens?

Unfortunately that night it was onto the plane and back to real life. For who knows how long? I'm looking at study options other than the obvious one of enrolling into the Fine Arts course I deferred last year. I mean, it seems like a bit of a waste of time to spend 3-4 years (more if I decide to take a break) studying full time, to get a degree that has some photography in it but a whole lot of other stuff I don't NEED, when I could just spend two years at TAFE and get a full diploma in photoimaging. Especially since I'm planning on doing some form of Fashion Business studies afetrwards, which could mean I'd spend 5 years studying if I went to uni. When I could spend one year doing my Certificate IV and then hopefully find some part time photography work while I do my Diploma. That and I can't remember my loging details for UNSW and nor can I find them anywhere and nor is there a "I forgot my usename" button (stupid.) so I can't enroll at this point, anyway.

Here, have a picture:

(please ignore the fuzz in the corner. It's someone's fascinator. Large lens in big crowds...)

All for now, some Europe and after photos coming soon I promise!

-m xx